Chapter 41 #2
I wrap a hand beneath her thigh, lifting it to cradle her just right, taking care to mind that ache in her hip.
With the other, I guide my length down and slide the tip through her slickness, dragging slow over that tender little bundle of nerves.
She is dripping—wetness slicking my length the instant I touch her, a hot, silky flood that tells me how long she has ached for this.
I slide upward, pressing the flushed crown against that sensitive bud, rubbing back and forth, circling, teasing until it swells harder beneath the pressure.
Again and again I torment it—slow drags, light taps, firm circles—until her hips jerk helplessly upward, chasing more.
“Easy, now,” I whisper. “You ain’t in charge here. I am. I decide what you get and how hard you get it.”
I press forward slow, my teeth gritting tight at the feel of her stretching around the thick of me. Her warmth grips me like her body remembers every inch. She gasps, back arching like I lit a match to her spine.
“You’re mine,” I rasp. “Ain’t no one else ever gonna have you like this.” I draw back slow as cold sap then sink in again—deeper this time, harder, claiming more of her with every roll of my hips. “My woman. My home.”
Her back arches, mouth parting as tries to tilt her hips up into mine.
“Ah, ah,” I chide, gripping her good hip tight. “I warned you once. You don’t get to chase it. You take what I give. Understand?”
She swallows. “Yes.”
“Say it proper.”
“Yes, sir.”
I smile. “There’s my good girl.”
Then, I move. Slow, dragging strokes—out until the crown barely brushes her entrance, in until I’m seated deep, brushing that hidden place that makes her quiver.
I watch her unravel, eyes fluttering. My thumb seeks out her swollen pearl and traces lazy circles—light at first, then firmer, rubbing until it pulses under my touch.
“You like that?” I murmur. “Like me teasin’ you here while I fill you slow? Feels like heaven, don’t it, little lamb?”
“Yes, sir,” she breathes, legs trembling against me. Her breath turns uneven. She makes a sound—half moan, half plea—and I know she’s close. Her fingernails dig into my shoulders like she’s hanging on for dear life.
Her head falls back, exposing the pale column of her throat. I can’t resist—I slide my hand around it, fingers curling possessively as my thumb leaves her bud. I squeeze just enough to feel the frantic flutter of her pulse, just enough to remind her who I am.
“Your heartbeat’s hammering against my palm. You trust me not to hurt you, little lamb?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispers, the words strained and soft under my grip.
I rock deeper inside her, slow and deliberate. “But you know I could, don’t you?”
She answers with a broken cry, arching sharply beneath me. Her diamond-hard nipples drag across my chest with every desperate heave of her breath.
“You’re right there, ain’t you? Right on the goddamn edge?” I rasp against her ear, holding her pinned. “Come for me,” I growl, thrusting deep and grinding hard against her core.
She shatters—Christ, does she shatter—clenching around me in waves that drag me deeper, her body pulling at mine like it’s starving for every inch.
I give her no reprieve. I drive into her harder, relentless, chasing the fire she’s lit inside me. Her thighs clamp tight around my waist and the feel of her unraveling beneath me splits me wide open.
“Fuck,” I choke out, burying myself to the hilt one final time. I come with a ragged curse, spilling deep and hard, everything I have pouring into her. My body locks rigid, jaw clenched against the damp curve of her neck as the world flares white-hot and still.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, her lips brushing soft kisses along my throat while we both breathe ragged like we just outran the law.
When the spinning finally slows, I stay buried inside her, chest heaving against hers.
I trail a lazy hand down her thigh, stroking the sensitive spot behind her knee.
Her skin is slick with sweat, glowing in the firelight, and she’s never looked more beautiful—bare, breathless, utterly spent, and still full of me.
The room hangs heavy with the raw scent of us.
I press my forehead to hers. “I could live right here between these thighs, little lamb…fillin’ you up till it takes.”
She trembles at that, fingers curling against my back with a gentle laugh. “Do you expect us to run with a baby strapped to my chest?”
I don’t answer straight off. Just breathe her in, cheek restin’ against her temple, hand idlin’ at her waist.
“I ain’t never expected nothin’ but trouble,” I say finally.
“And I damn sure never thought I’d be so lucky to have a woman like you.
But that don’t stop me from wantin’. From seein’ it clear in my head: you in a warm cabin, belly full, hair comin’ loose from the heat.
Me out mendin’ fence or tendin’ to the stock.
Maybe a boy trailin’ me, maybe a girl sittin’ on your lap listenin’ to stories. ”
She’s quiet a long while, then she pulls back, the pads of her fingers brushing sweat from my temple. “Then why do you keep riding toward death?” she asks. “Why keep chasing a fight, Kodiak, when you just described peace?”
Because it’s all I’ve ever known. Because every time I’ve hoped, I’ve regretted it.
But I don’t say all that.
Instead, I kiss her forehead.
Her hand slides to my cheek, thumb stroking lazy. “If we’re going to run, I need to know it will not be forever. I need to believe there’s an end to it. A cabin. A fence. A child.”
“Wakin’ up with your legs ’round me and the sound of chickens out the window. Hell yeah, that’s what I want. I just don’t know how to get us there.”
She leans in, presses her lips to mine. “We’ll find a way,” she says. “But not if you go off getting yourself killed chasing vengeance.”
I blow out a breath. “I’m still gonna kill Virgil,” I mutter into her hair.
I ease my weight off her, careful not to jar her hip, and cradle her close as I lie us down side by side.
My hand finds the back of her head, fingers sifting through damp hair.
She presses her face into my neck like she needs to hide there a minute.
“You can’t kill everyone, Kodiak.”
“I know. Let’s not worry about that right now,” I say, pulling her closer. “You feel so good wrapped around me. Been thinkin’ about this since Galveston.”
She hums low, content but worn through, like her bones melted out of her.
“Ain’t lettin’ you go again,” I whisper into her hair. “You know that, right?”
“You’d better not.”
I drag my fingers along her spine, feeling the sweat start to cool on both our skin. We lie there a long while, tangled up in each other, just breathing. Letting the fire crackle down and the night stretch quiet.
“Sleep,” I whisper. “I’ll keep watch.”